Parallel Parking

            I had dinner with my sister the other night. We ate at a Szechuan restaurant in Alhambra. The food was great, but there's always a wait for a table. The restaurant had chairs set up outside on the sidewalk as a courtesy. My sister and I sat and read the menu while we waited.
            A car pulled up to parallel park at the curb in front of us. There was nothing else to do but watch as they backed their car in. There were probably a half dozen of us watching this poor guy try to park. He was off kilter to begin with and it got progressively worse from there. He must have pulled up and backed in twenty times before he got it right. My sister and I looked at each other and shook our heads. It was hard to watch.
            About ten minutes later another car pulled up and tried to parallel park. It looked strikingly similar to the first car. I found myself getting mildly agitated as I watched one bad decision after another. I noticed the people sitting next to me were frustrated too. I heard them say, "no! Turn the wheel the other way!" To see people fail over and over again was interesting to me. Watching their wheels turn one way and then the other, as they pulled forward and backed up, stopping to make proximity calculations, pulling into traffic, backing out of traffic, only to realize they had repeated the same mistake. The drivers were Chinese. Nothing racist here, it's just an observation. (My editor still thinks it's racist).
            My sister and I shook our heads and laughed. A third car pulled up a few minutes later. We patrons sitting on the sidewalk let out a uniform groan. Oh no. 

Eldorado

          Someday I'm going to own a nineteen seventy-two black Cadillac Eldorado, and float to my destination of choice. Of course I won't drive the Caddy unless I know for sure that there's a parking lot nearby, or an abundance of street parking. That's going to be my first question, "how's the parking?"  I'll have to avoid some neighborhoods completely: parts of Korea town, mid-Wilshire, Beachwood Canyon. And then there's the gas problem. How much will it cost to get there? I figure it will be five bucks just to get her warmed up. Thirty bucks for a round tripper no problem. I know it's an impractical idea, but in my mind it's a great idea. 
          The best part of owning the Eldorado will be watching the faces of the valets as they drive off in search of a good place to park.  

Raw Power

          I've often wondered why The Stooges album Raw Power sounded so bad. It's always bothered me for some reason. Why does it sound so muffled? Nobody really talks about it. Most people revere the album unabashedly, which is perfectly understandable. But my ears have always said what the heck is going on here, where are the drums? Where's the bass? I finally got fed up and did some research. 
          As it turns out, Iggy decided to mix the album himself and something went haywire. According to my research, Iggy bounced tracks when maybe he wasn't supposed to and as a result he reduced his mixing options. He gave the master to David Bowie to mix.
       
          Bowie's quote:
       
          "the most absurd situation I encountered when I was recording was the first time I worked with Iggy Pop. He wanted me to mix Raw Power, so he brought the 24-track tape in, and he put it up. He had the band on one track, lead guitar on another and him on a third. Out of 24 tracks there were just three tracks that were used. He said 'see what you can do with this'. I said, 'Jim, there's nothing to mix'. So we just pushed the vocal up and down a lot. On at least four or five songs that was the situation, including "Search and Destroy." That's got such a peculiar sound because all we did was occasionally bring the lead guitar up and take it out." 
         
          And that's why Raw Power sounds the way it does. Amen.
          

Elvis and The Golden Gate Quartet

          I've always wondered where Elvis Presley got his singing style. It was such an unique style of singing, and of course nobody can sing quite like Elvis. I can do it as joke, for a line or two, but that's about it. His approach makes perfect sense to me from a technical point of view. It's breathy, from the gut, but also from the throat. It combines all the basic elements of singing and presents them eloquently. He kind of ruined it for the rest of us. It's fun to sing in that style.

          I stumbled upon a video clip on YouTube. I love YouTube. It was of a black gospel group from the thirties called the Golden Gate Quartet. The song they were singing was called Noah. Upon hearing this for the first time I did a double take. It immediately occurred to me that this was where Elvis got his singing style. One of the singers was a dead ringer for Elvis. I googled the Golden Gate Quartet, and sure enough, Elvis was a huge fan. So much so that he went backstage after one of their shows when he was stationed in Germany. The mystery was solved. Elvis Presley got his singing style from the Golden Gate Quartet. You don't believe me? Listen to it yourself. The clip is called Golden Gate Quartet, Early Years. Scroll to 4:42 of the clip. That's where the song Noah begins. Listen to the whole song, and tell me it doesn't sound like Elvis. Just do it! Don't cry.

The Drive Show

          I think there should be a game show called The Drive Show where tourist who'd never been to Los Angeles would have to drive from, say, the Westside, Sepulveda and Palms to 515 Flower downtown. They'd have forty-five minutes to get there, (an hour and fifteen in rush-hour traffic) and if they didn't get to their destination in time they'd have to drive to Blue Jay Way in the Hollywood Hills for less prize money.
          Of course they wouldn't have a GPS or anything like that, maybe they'd get a Thomas Guide if they still make them, and they'd be sent on their way.
          It's solid entertainment. Not for the weak of heart, that's for sure. The time crunch alone would make them loony. Of course there would be cameras in the car, so we Angelenos could monitor the contestants and laugh as their stress starts to build.

Tear-Away Pants

          I had a conversation with a friend about tear-away pants. My friend wants to reach down and pull off a pair after singing Money (That's What I Want). I think it's a good idea. There's an entertainment value there that audiences would appreciate.
          I got to thinking about tear-away pants and wondered why they've never made it into the mainstream. I know NBA players use them. I've always thought it looked cool when a player got off the bench to check into a game, and reached down and ripped off his sweat pants in one pull. Blam! There's a ready-to-go element to tear-aways. If you pull off a pair, you'd better be ready to go.  
          A part of me is rooting for tear-away pants for everyday use. Especially for dates. 
          "How'd your date go?"
          "Man, I didn't even get out of my tear-aways!"

Robin Williams

          I was saddened to hear of Robin William's death. Late-night television will never be the same. People are compelled to tell stories about him in his memory and many of the stories are far more important than mine. But it's my Robin Williams story, and the time to tell it is now.
          I was at a men's clothing shop on Melrose avenue in the mid-eighties. I was trying on a sports jacket. That's what we did back then. I was aware of a man standing next to me. He came into the store after me and was trying on jackets as well. I paid him no mind. But at some point I looked over and realized it was Robin Williams. We both had jackets on and simultaneously turned toward each other. He asked, "how does this look?" The jacket he was wearing was a pond-scum green color. "I'm not sure it's your color," I said.
          "That jacket looks great on you, but it's a little wide around the shoulders," he said to me.
          I looked at myself in the mirror. He was right. We both took off our jackets and hung them back on the rack. Neither of us were interested in buying one. We stared at the jackets on the rack one last time before stepping away as if to leave. I nodded my head to Robin and said, "have a good day," he nodded his head to me and said, "you too."